


These Londoners We Live Among

by Alyssa_bird



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Johnlock Fluff, M/M, Smut, bit of angst, short fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-31
Updated: 2014-10-04
Packaged: 2018-02-11 05:42:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2055906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alyssa_bird/pseuds/Alyssa_bird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock was twenty-four when he realized that love was the number one human error. Love was humiliating, bothersome, convoluted, and a lot of the time, unrequited.</p><p>In which I rewrite the history of John and Sherlock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the poem "Loitering with a Vacant Eye" by A.E. Housman.

Sherlock Holmes was eleven years old when he first thought about love. 

He was practicing his violin in the den when he witnessed his mother and father kissing. Later, while being tucked into bed, he asked his mother, "Why do you and dad kiss so much?"

She smiled and said, "Because we love each other,"

"Well, then, how do you fall in love?" He asked.

"Falling in love isn't something you can explain how to do. It's a spontaneous thing. Love happens whether you're prepared for it or not."

"I don't think I'll ever fall in love, it sounds boring anyways."

Mrs. Holmes laughed. "Oh, Sherlock. Love is a bossy demanding thing. Love has a way of finding you even if you don't want to be found."

...

Sherlock was twenty-four when he realized that love was the number one human error. Love was humiliating, bothersome, convoluted, and a lot of the time, unrequited. 

By the age of thirty-four, Sherlock had never been in love. 

And he quite liked it that way. 

He found that being alone wasn't as bad as everyone made it out to be. He didn't understand why everyone was so afraid to be alone. Solitude was Sherlock's weapon, it protected him from the great human error. 

Given his talent, it was natural for others to stay away from him. It was almost visceral, the way other people stayed clear of Sherlock. He figured maybe he was just meant to be alone, maybe it was the way nature had intended him to be - alone. He was quite happy that love hadn't managed to find him. 

Unfortunately for Sherlock, it was already closing in.

He was sitting in the lab at Barts when the door swung open.

"Well, a bit different from my day..."

He had been found. 

_____

They went home in silence that night. The night they first saw Moriarty. When he had strapped John to a bomb, when Sherlock had dozens of red lasers trained on him. 

After Moriarty left, they got into a cab and rode in silence. 

"Here we are," The cabbie said when they had finally pulled up to 221b. 

John waited in the cold as Sherlock payed. When the driver had sped off, Sherlock turned to John. 

"Are you sure you're alright?" Sherlock asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just..." John looked away.

"Tell me," Sherlock insisted, taking a step closer to John.

John looked back and stared into the eyes that are a color that are entirely their own. He scrunched up his face in the way that Sherlock knows John makes when he is conflicted. Then, without warning, John surged up and grabbed Sherlock by the coat and pulled the taller man down for a kiss. Almost immediately after the kiss had started, John pulled away, embarrassed. 

"I'm sorry," He panted. John tried to turn but Sherlock grabbed his arm and pulled him close again.

Sherlock smiled. "Do that again,"

And he did. 

...

Later, in Sherlock's bed, John turned to look at him.

"We're a strange pair, aren't we?"

Sherlock lifted his head from John's chest. 

"It's a strange life."

And it was.


	2. With Every Tick of My Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being in love, Sherlock realized, meant that sometimes you had to go out and buy the milk too. Being in love meant that you can't leave the flat for days on end without a word to anyone. Being in love meant that someone would take care of you when you yourself forget to.
> 
> And lastly, being in love meant that Valentine's Day was obligatory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just couldn't leave this story alone! The first chapter was supposed to be a one shot but evolved into something more. I will be planning to update this frequently.

Being in love, Sherlock realized, meant that sometimes you had to go out and buy the milk too. Being in love meant that you can't leave the flat for days on end without a word to anyone. Being in love meant that someone would take care of you when you yourself forget to.

And lastly, being in love meant that Valentine's Day was obligatory. 

The thirteenth of February and Sherlock had yet to buy John a gift. Usually Valentine's Day flew over Sherlock's head, the day passed unnoticed year after year. 

But this year was different, this year Molly had bounced up to him and asked, "So, you and John got anything planned for V-Day?"

"Excuse me?"

"Valentine's Day! You know, the day you show how much you love your significant other...?"

Sherlock furrowed his brows. "Shouldn't we all be doing that everyday?"

"Well, of course, but the fourteenth is everyone's designated day to be really annoying about it." She took a sip of her coffee.

"I see,"

Sherlock then had Molly fill him in on all the details about this day of designated love.

_____

After making two sales girls cry and getting into an altercation with a middle aged man, Sherlock had no luck in finding the perfect gift for John. 

He walked slowly down the sidewalk, occasionally peeking into stores and boutiques but nothing caught his fancy until something silver and shiny caught his eye. He practically ran inside the store and waved over the clerk.

He pointed to the item behind the glass.

"Can I see this, please?"

_____

He goes home and hides the box in the cabinet John knows is the place Sherlock likes to keep his jar of eyeballs. 

_____

Valentine's Day, that year, fell on a Friday. John worked at the clinic on Fridays from 10:00 A.M. to 5:00 P.M. So by the time Sherlock awoke at his usual noontime, John was gone. 

Arse. 

_____

4:10

4:55

5:00

5:30 John should be arriving any-

"Sherlock?"

"In the kitchen,"

John dropped his bag and walked into their tiny kitchen. "Hello,"

"Happy Valentine's Day," Sherlock smiled and pushed the black box across the table.

John blanched.

Sherlock's smile fell. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, it's just...I didn't get you anything," He bit his lip. "I didn't think you would even acknowledge today..."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "John, you don't need to get me anything."

"But you got me something! Usually both parties get each other a gift, it's a bit traditional!"

"It's stupid. But this isn't an 'I Love You, Happy Valentine's Day' present. I've decided this is a 'Thank You' present."

"What are you thanking me for?"

"Loving me,"

John smiled.

"You don't need to buy me a gift, John. You tell me you love me everyday. When you force me to eat everyday. When you tell me to be careful when we're on a case. When you wake up in the middle of the night just to put the covers back over me when I kick them off. Your love is constant and I can only hope to be as great of a man as you are. This," Sherlock gestured toward the box. "Is a thank you and is no where near the value of what you have given me since day one."

John bit his lip. "Can I open it now?"

"Of course,"

John reached over and slid the box over to himself. With one last look at Sherlock he opened the box and gasped. He pulled out the most beautiful and intricate silver watch he had ever seen. He held it up, it glinted in the light.

"Sherlock," He said breathlessly. "It's positively gorgeous."

"There's an inscription."

John turned the watch over. He smiled again.

"I hope to spend every tick with you." He read aloud.

John set down the watch and walked around the table to roughly grab Sherlock and ravage his mouth. When they pulled away, John laughed. "Oh, Sherlock Holmes, I love you, I love you, I love you."

"I love you more." Sherlock said, resting his forehead against John's. 

"Sherlock?"

"Hmm?"

"How much did this watch cost you?"

"Let's not ask questions we don't want to know the answers to, John."

"Fair enough, come on," He lept up and started to pull Sherlock towards the bedroom. "I want to thank you properly."


	3. Uncommon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I love you," John said simply.
> 
> Sherlock smiled. "I know, you tell me all the time."

All was quiet and still inside the flat of 221b. Quiet and still save for the moans and heavy pants coming from the bedroom. 

"Oh my God," Panted John as Sherlock bounced up and down on his cock, his thighs burning from the effort of keeping his rhythm.

"You're so perfect," Whispered Sherlock, palms planted on John's chest. "I love having your cock inside me."

Sherlock squeezed his eyes shut and began to roughly grind himself on John, who moaned and threw his head back, gripping Sherlock's thighs tighter.

"Wait, wait," John moaned. "Go slower, please. Slower..."

Sherlock opened his eyes, coming back to himself. He began to rock himself frustrating slow. Breathing heavily, he began to alternate between lazily circling his hips and slowly lifting himself up and down, almost letting John's cock slip out of him before taking it all back in again.

"Yes, fuck, like that, don't stop. You're so beautiful, Sherlock." John panted, biting his lip.

Sherlock blushed a bit at that and leaned over to suck at John's lips. They exchanged hot, wet open mouthed kisses as John pushed up in Sherlock slowly, making the detective moan into his mouth. 

John broke the kiss and curled his fingers in Sherlock's hair, keeping his lips close to Sherlock's. "I want to come with you beneath and your legs wrapped around me. I want to fuck you until you scream."

Sherlock pressed a rough kiss against John's lips before rolling over, taking John with him and pulling him on top. 

"Go ahead," Sherlock said, wrapping his legs around John's waist, tangling both hands in the blond man's hair. "I'm yours. Fuck me, take what's yours."

"Fuck," John grunted.

John began to pound into Sherlock at a brutal pace, unrelenting as Sherlock shouted his name over and over. John nestled his head into the long, pale neck of his lover as he thrust into him over and over.

"John," Sherlock moaned into John's ear. "I'm so..." He gasped. "So close. Please, John, harder, please. Make me come."

John lifted himself up and grabbed Sherlock's hips painfully. He lifted Sherlock's hips to meet every one of his thrusts, hitting his prostate perfectly. 

Sherlock came with a shout, his face and chest flushed red. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't move, he couldn't think as his orgasm ripped through him, his come making a mess of both of them. John reached his climax next, throwing his head back and filling Sherlock up with his come. 

John collapsed on top of Sherlock, both of them spent to exhaustion. They didn't move for quite some time.

_____

"I love you," John said simply.

Sherlock smiled. "I know, you tell me all the time."

"No, you don't understand. I really, really love you. I look at you sometimes and realize that I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you."

Sherlock finds that he suddenly can't breathe.

"I love you," John repeats. "Does that scare you?"

"No," Sherlock says after a time. "What scares me is that I love you back." 

"How do you mean?"

"It's a bit scary, isn't it? Being in love? I've seen what it does to people. It's so ugly and distorted and common..."

"It's also beautiful though, don't you think?" John interjected. "Besides, this isn't common love."

"Why do you say that?"

John leaned over and kissed Sherlock. "Because you're not the common man, now are you?"


	4. A Little Domestic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock Holmes was good at a lot of things. Unfortunately, change wasn't one of those things.

Sherlock Holmes was good at a lot of things. He was an excellent violinist. He had a mind for numbers and formulas. He could speak many languages with proficiency. He was even good at tennis! Sherlock excelled at everything, save for a couple things.

Sherlock was not good at listening. He was not good at being polite. He was not good at understanding people's emotions. And above all, he wasn't very good when it came to change.

"You're always complaining!" Sherlock said, slumping into his chair.

John emerged from the bedroom, hurriedly zipping up his trousers. His voice low and agitated, "I'm always complaining because this place is always mess, Sherlock! You think the first thing I like to see when I get home from work is a disaster of a kitchen?"

John retreated back into their bedroom in search of his shoes. From the living room Sherlock heard him shouting. "Eyeballs on the table! Fingers in the freezer! Chemicals dripping onto my chair!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes as John returned to the living room, fully dressed and shrugging on his coat. 

"So you want me to be your little housewife?" Sherlock spat. "You want me to have the flat all tidy and dinner on the table every night when you come home? What would you like tonight, darling? Filet Mignon or baked salmon?"

"Oh, don't even start with me, you know that's not what I meant!"

"But that's what you want!"

"No it's not! All I want is for you to clean up after your experiments!"

Sherlock squinted his eyes at John. "You despise me and my work, don't you?" 

John looked like he was about to scream.

"You're absolutely ridiculous. I've got to get to work. Talk to me when you decide you don't want to be a fucking idiot."

And with that John grabbed his gloves from the mantel and stomped his way out. 

As John stomped down the stairs he heard Sherlock call out, "YOU'RE THE IDIOT!" followed by the sound of a door slamming. 

...

Returning from work later that day, John slowly opened the door to their flat and was pleasantly surprised. 

The living room was straightened and tidy. Every book and magazine tucked away, every pillow in its place, and all clutter cleared off. John's jaw dropped as he saw the kitchen, it was practically spotless. He couldn't believe it. 

Before he could call out for Sherlock, he heard grunts and sounds of a struggle from behind. He turned to see Sherlock laden with takeaway bags, his face flushed from the cold. 

"Did you do this?" John asked.

"What?" Sherlock snapped.

John gestured to the flat. "All this!"

"Yes," He shrugged. 

John smiled and walked over to hug his boyfriend. "Thank you,"

"Let's not make a big deal out of this, John."

"It is a big deal! I appreciate this. I really do." John held Sherlock tighter his head resting on the taller man's shoulder.

"Don't expect this everyday."

"Of course not."

"And I'll never make dinner."

"Maybe once or twice?"

"Maybe," 

"But I do promise to love you. I promise to love you even when you call me a fucking idiot."

"I'm sorry I said that."

"It's okay. I called you worse things to Ms. Hudson after you left."

John laughed and for now this small step Sherlock had made was enough.


	5. I Covered You in Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock said he would leave, he was never wrong.

It was dark inside Sherlock and John's shared bedroom, rain tapped lightly at the windows. John was just about to drift off to sleep when he felt a poke at his side. 

"John?" Sherlock whispered. "John?"

"Hmm?" 

"I'm scared,"

John's eyes snapped open. Sherlock? Scared? Sherlock? Emotional vulnerability? Impossible. John turned over.

"Scared? Why are you scared?" John whispered.  
Sherlock pulled his lips into a tight line before saying, "Because I think I'm going to leave you,"

"Leave? Leave where? What are you talking about?" 

"I leave, John. I leave everyone who cares about me. I left home when they tried to get me clean after I started doing drugs, they couldn't find me for months." 

"Do you think you're going to relapse again? Why do you think you're going to leave?" John was panicked now.

"I don't want to leave. I just feel like something bad is going to happen. Soon. I can't explain it,"

"Nothing bad is going to happen, I promise, you're not leaving my side,"

Sherlock pressed his face into John's shoulder. "I love you,"

"I love you too," John ran his fingers through Sherlock's hair until the younger man fell asleep. John stayed up long after, Sherlock's foreboding words leaving him wide awake. 

...

"This phone call, it's, um, it's my note. That's what people do, don't they? Leave a note,"

"Leave a note when?"

"Goodbye, John,"

...

Through all the trauma and devastation, John never stopped replaying that night in his head. 

Sherlock said he would leave, he was never wrong. 

...

Three weeks after the fall John moved out of the flat. He couldn't spend another minute being surrounded by Sherlock's memories. He couldn't spend another night sleeping alone in the bed he and Sherlock made love in. As time passed, he got a proper job as a doctor and met a pretty nurse named Mary. 

...

Three years after Sherlock's passing John finally felt right again. 

It took three years of drowning to feel like he could breathe again. 

He was even going to propose to Mary. That is, until, he looked up at the familiar face of his waiter and heard the words he realized he wanted to hear most in the world.

"Not dead."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the incredibly short chapter! Xxx


	6. You're Broken and I'm Pissed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary liked Sherlock. That was good. The the thing was John wasn't sure if he particularly liked him anymore.

Mary liked Sherlock. That was good. The thing was John wasn't sure if he particularly liked him anymore. 

Three years. Three years of mourning. Three years of torture. Three years to waste and Sherlock expected it to all be forgiven? 

What did this mean for them? John had Mary now. She had come along and picked up all the pieces of John that Sherlock left behind.

They didn't talk about it, not at first. Their past was ancient history and neither one of them had the courage to talk about it. Within seconds of seeing John for the first time in three years it was obvious that he had moved on, Mary was proof and now they were going to be married.

How wonderful. 

It wasn't until after the bomb incident in the tube that John decided to discuss their predicament. John turned up at Sherlock's door on Wednesday afternoon with a serious look on his face. Sherlock knew that look all too well.

...

"So you're going to marry her?"

"Of course,"

"You love her?"

"Yes,"

"Does she know about...us?"

"No, it, um, it just never came up, I guess. I don't see the point now though. It'll just make things complicated. I'd appreciate it if no one mentioned it to Mary."

"I see,"

...

In their early years the couple found it difficult to keep their hands off one another.

They kissed on the stairwell up to their flat, during cab rides, in darkened alleys on cold nights. They kissed roughly on the tube while the other passengers determinedly kept their attention elsewhere. 

But now, they were perfect strangers. They couldn't brush fingers without reacting as if they had just burned their hand. They couldn't make eye contact longer than four seconds.

They were miserable. 

...

"I'm sorry," 

"You should be,"

"I never intended to hurt you," 

"But you did,"

...

They used to take walks in Berkeley Square. They used to drink coffee and hold hands. Sherlock used to hug John from behind and promise him the world.

...

"So where were you, all this time?"

"Mycroft has a vacation home in Madrid, right on the beach. I spent two weeks there before I sought out to dismantle Moriarty's web. After that I bounced around from disgusting motel to disgusting motel, spent some time in the Ukraine, mostly Serbia though."

"Can't say I feel sorry for you,"

"Wouldn't expect you to. You'd love the beaches in Madrid though. The sand is warm and the water is the color of your eyes, you'd absolutely love it."

"Sherlock-"

"I love you,"

"Sherlock- " 

"I know I don't deserve your-"

"Stop, I can't, Sherlock. We can't. Not anymore,"

...

Sherlock likes Mary too. She's funny and kind, she's the type of person Sherlock wished he could have been for John. 

She sees it though, she's not an idiot. She sees the sad far away look he gets on his face when he thinks no one is looking. She notices the detached look in his eyes when they talk about the wedding. She can see the sadness in Sherlock. That doesn't bother her though, what bothers her is that she sees the sadness in John too.

...

"Sherlock, I love Mary,"

"I know but,"

"That's the end of it, I'm marrying her."

"Then what are we going to do?"

"Jesus, Sherlock. I'm...I'm so insanely happy you're alive. I can't bear to lose you again. What I want from you now is to be your best friend again."

"We can do that,"

...

"John has picked me as his best man," Sherlock said as he flipped through a file on Molly's desk.

She looked up from her blood samples. "Has he?"

"Yes,"

"And both of you are fine with that? Are you sure it won't be too...uncomfortable?"

"I don't think so,"

"And you'll be alright?"

Sherlock smiled at Molly. 

"I always am."

...

Things got easier for them. They went on cases and hung around 221b like they used to. The only difference is that Sherlock couldn't reach out and hold John's hand anytime he wanted.

...

"You don't think it's a bit weird," Molly started as she placed a mug of coffee in Sherlock's hand. "That John's marrying a woman after he spent all those years with you?"

Sherlock shrugged. "He was with women before we were involved,"

"You don't know if he'd ever been with a man before you?"

"I never asked,"

"Hmm, so you're sort of the exception then?"

"I was always the exception."

Molly gave him a sad little smile.  
...

Angelo's restaurant patrons short stern looks over their shoulders at the three people sitting at the table near the window. Sherlock and John were causing a ruckus, laughing and drinking.

"Mary, have I told you about the time Sherlock came home once covered in blood?" John said through laughter. 

"No, I don't think I've heard that one," She answered.

"Right, well, there I was reading my book when Sherlock here waltzes in the room looking like he's just murdered somebody! He took the tube looking like that! Damn, what I'd give to have a picture of that!"

Both men were laughing very loudly now, Mary just smiled politely, trying to follow along.

"No cab would even stop for me!" Sherlock interjected.

"Oh, no! Do you remember when we were in Baskerville? You're such an ass! Remember you had me in a cage scared out of my mind? You have no shame, Sherlock Holmes." John tried not to spit out his wine as he laughed at the memory. 

Mary cleared her throat. "You know I actually-"

"Sherlock! Remember the Speckled Blonde?"

"Oh, I read that one! I really-" Mary started but was cut off by Sherlock.

"I hated the Speckled Blonde! You got all the important facts absolutely wrong!" Sherlock laughed.

John scoffed. "I did no such thing!"

Mary sighed.

...

"John? John!" 

Mary's shrill voice jolted out of the reverie in his head. 

"Hmm?"

"What about your cousins in Bath?" Mary asked, scribbling on a piece of paper.

"What?" John said with slight disinterest. 

"Do you think we should invite your cousins from Bath to the wedding? It's a bit far off but if you think they'd come? What are their names again?"

"Uh, Lucy and Shelby,"

"Are they married or anything? Do you think they're gonna have a plus one?"

"Yeah, sure," John responded, looking down at his hands. 

Mary looked up at John. "So they're married?"

John furrowed his brow. "Wait. Who's married?" 

"John!" Mary said, exasperated. "Have you been listening to me at all? Where is your head today?"

"Sorry, I just," John sighed and put his face in his hands. "I just haven't been feeling well lately."

...

Sherlock tried not to think of John's warm breath against his neck. He tried not to remember how it felt when John pressed his mouth beneath his ear.

...

"I better go. Mary is expecting me in a bit,"

"Alright,"

"We're good?"

"Absolutely," 

...

Sherlock watched from behind the curtain as John hailed a cab and rode off.

He shook his head. "I'm in over my head."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive (and mention!) any mistakes you might see! This was all written off the cuff in an attempt to apologize for the last chapter! Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
